


To Whomever May Cross the Dragon's Mountain Pass

by thanatopis



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Dragon Hanzo Shimada, Follows The Tale of the Two Brothers from the Cinematic Short, Interspecies Relationship(s), M/M, Other, Though Genji Technically IS a Dragon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-27 11:22:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8399752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thanatopis/pseuds/thanatopis
Summary: Isolated from the world, Hanzo has made the Bone Mountains his prison and sanctuary both over the guilt at having killed his beloved brother. The once revered and proud dragon lord is mostly viewed with the utmost dread. The humans fear the monster who haunts and supposedly terrorizes those who pass through the valley, but that doesn't stop the few brave souls from traversing the range to make it across to the other side.It starts when Hanzo hears humming, and his life is not the same from that moment on.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, okay, this has been a long one in the making! I'm really proud of this fic, it's definitely been a real treat to write and it's the first Shimadacest fic I've written where porn is not in the forefront, but don't worry--some good 'ole Shimada loving is planned for the second half of this fic!
> 
> Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy! Comments feed my muse :)

The faint sound of a hum drifting along the wind is what finally wakes Hanzo from his long slumber.

He first thinks he has mistook the childish noise for the few song birds that remain during the harsh winters; their feathers are the dull brown kind with mottled white, beaks a deep chestnut color. The birds remain nearby, close enough to Hanzo’s body that radiates the only source of warmth in these cold, desolate mountains.

The sound persists and Hanzo quietly listens with no defining emotion concerning him. He doesn’t bother disturbing the fine layer of snow that has begun to coat his coiled body as he listlessly waits, pondering how long he has slept in this interval, regretful and irritated both that he couldn’t have gone a few more years in that welcomed void of quiet and black.

His breathes, heavier and deeper in wakefulness, cloud in two billowing puffs that exhale through his nostrils. Hanzo’s eyes gradually blink open and the world around him is unclear and murky before the thin membrane of his third eyelid slides back.

Hanzo’s first reaction is to wince at the light that assaults his eyes like dull daggers. The fresh, falling snow glitters and reflects the sun even though its place is low in the sky. Hanzo tries to find how much time has passed when his surroundings give no such clues.

The humans have always looked towards the stars for guidance, and cast out from his place in that very sky, Hanzo relies on the same methods.

He decides to wait until the sun sets and the constellations show themselves. He’ll be lucky if the world passed into another age, but with Hanzo’s record the Earth is most likely still in the dragging age of Pisces. Hanzo huffs, inwardly cursing the longevity of his kind.

He’ll live through many ages if the fates are cruel like he knows them to be.

The humming does not stop, which is worrying, especially when the lulling notes grow clearer in the passing wind. The birds hop and chirp excitedly around Hanzo and whether the little creatures are thrilled about Hanzo’s re-awakening or the stranger foolishly traversing these mountains in such unforgiving weather, Hanzo cannot tell.

After a while, Hanzo grows increasingly tired of their excited calls back and forth to one another and tells them to be quiet with one gravelly sound that resembles more of a base animal grunt instead of the regal command of one of the oldest entities in the known world.

The birds immediately cease their chirping and turn their strange neckless heads in a quick, twitchy tandem that slightly unnerves Hanzo as five black pairs of beady eyes regard him for a prolonged moment before starting up again, debatably even louder than before.

Hanzo gapes at the audacity of it all before he huffs again, shucking the end of his tail so that a good sizable clump of snow sling shots in the bird’s direction and they scatter with simultaneous loud squawks. Hanzo almost chuckles at the sight, but the light-hearted humor ceases at the persistent humming that is becoming harder and harder to ignore.

The wind carries and echoes, making the men who travel these passes believe things are closer than they appear when they are, in fact, miles off. The mountains are deceiving in nature and Hanzo suspects the human who hums is near the peak, descending slowly downwards towards the valley where the forest thrives and the animals are a plenty, and where, regrettably, Hanzo has made his home.

He curls tighter into his body, ignoring the birds that now hop and chirp passionately on his snow covered back. He closes his eyes and feigns sleep, suddenly dispassionate in how his surroundings might have changed over the many years past.

Hanzo drifts between thoughts and memories that are both bittersweet and too painful to recount as he can’t help but to listen to that insistent humming that makes him oddly ache for home. He hopes whomever the human is dies before they descend onto the valley floor, sparing Hanzo the trouble of having to deal with them himself.

The villagers who make their homes at the base of the mountain don’t call the range Hanzo occupies the _Bone Mountains_ for its bleached white snow peaks…

***

The forest has long become an extension of his own body.

Hanzo knows when the human makes it into the valley as the tree’s branches tremble, the vibrant, green leaves appear to almost dance as Spring slowly takes its place in Winter’s steed, steadily melting the snow, making a path for the wild flowers to bloom and blossom, small woodland creatures waking from their months long slumber.

It’s been several days, weeks, and months since Hanzo last awoke—the longest by any amount of time since he made these mountains his home.

Unadmitted, Hanzo has come to anticipate the arrival of this human who holds the audacity to traverse such treacherous terrain and live long enough to make it to the oasis that resides at the bottom in-between the two peaks. Hanzo is a mixture of both anger and uncharacteristic curiosity as he weaves easily through the trees. The other animals still in their activities as he passes by, paying respect to something they know is beyond what little they already know of their small, sheltered world.

The human is close is what the forest tells him, and Hanzo begrudgingly feels his curiosity morph into something else that has his heart beating heavily, has him aware of every scale that lines his serpentine body, and the measured breaths that he takes in and out.

It’s a feeling he hasn’t experienced in a very long while— _expectancy_.

There are other emotions that rack Hanzo’s being as well, like annoyance, indecision, and animosity, but they are almost afterthoughts. Hanzo is immediately peevish by the sudden emotional flares that have been building since he first heard those lulling notes in the dead of winter. Hanzo has no plan of action, no ulterior motive, and it’s infuriating to know that already, he is too invested.

The canopy of trees parts to reveal an open field of green grass and purple wild flowers that stretch as far as Hanzo can see, and there the human is, strange and unfamiliar on this canvas, resting on the trunk of a tree with a straw hat covering their face. Hanzo unknowingly holds his breath, watches and waits, but the human doesn’t move; just their chest with the soft inhalations of sleep.

Hanzo sweeps closer, keeping to the edge of the field as he wills the wind quiet.

As Hanzo approaches and the details become clearer, he knows without a doubt that the traveler is a man.

Hanzo hesitates as he nears closer, suddenly unsure. He realizes then that he’s not given enough thought to what exactly he planned to do when he finally met the human. It’s then that a voice, too conscious and too aware for having previously thought asleep cuts into the peaceful serenity like a crack of lightening.

“You aren’t planning on eating me are you, great dragon lord? You’ve been staring rather intently; it’s making me fairly nervous.”

Hanzo flinches and drawls back at the sound of syllables forming into words; the teasing, almost cocksure tint to the human’s tone. It’s been so long since Hanzo has heard another being communicate in the ways that he does that he remains shocked for longer than he’d like.

The human removes his straw hat and the first thing Hanzo notices about the man is the striking green of his eyes that rivals the very greenery around them. They flicker like the sun’s light on the surface of rippling lake water, burning bright with an inner mirth that is begrudgingly hard not to stare too deep into.

The human huffs a laugh, brow rising in bemused curiosity at Hanzo’s continuous silence before his carefree expression turns into an odd sort of wistfulness that is perplexing to say the least.

“Has it really been that long since you’ve last seen…” The human murmurs wistfully under his breath before he mysteriously lets his thoughts trail off. The odd lapse in thought is enough to push Hanzo out of his dumbfounded stupor as he straightens his back and allows his head to slowly rise so that he’s looking down at the man, rather than them sharing an equal line of sight that assumes they are equals.

Hanzo makes a show of tilting his head and inspecting the intruder who has dared to venture into his mountains. He makes a thoughtful, considering noise deep in his throat, hopes he sounds powerful and sure.

“Curious little human,” Hanzo begins mockingly. “Did no one ever tell you just who resides in these mountains? What happens to the travelers who cross into my domain?”

The man makes a sound of recognition, eyes lighting up.

He is odd indeed.

“Ah yes, the so very feared _Bone Mountains_ where the formidable dragon lord Hanzo chooses to roam and spend the rest of his days instead of in the sky. Yes, I know of you.”

Hanzo can’t help but to blank at the human using his name so freely and the hint of derision that laces his tone like a poison coated needle. His name isn’t exactly a secret to the humans who both fear and worship him, but to find one that would use it so carelessly in such an informal manner is an unpleasant shock. Hanzo scowls, clicks his teeth in a disapproving manner, hoping that the man doesn’t see how such informality ruffles his scales.

Hanzo’s mouth dips.

“I see that your finest quality is that uncouth mouth of yours, human,” Hanzo says coolly, shifting his body in fluid like motions like water and ink bleeding together on parchment paper. The human’s eyes flicker and follow the coil of his tail like he wants to reach out and touch it, maybe see if his scales are as slippery as the man thinks they are. The prospect still holds an un-agreeable distaste, but Hanzo wonders why he’s not more horrified by such a thought.

He peers down his snout with contempt, not bothering to hide how much he does not appreciate this man and his rude interference in Hanzo’s life.

The man just smiles, lithe shoulders rising in a carefree shrug.

“It’s just a hare bit odd is all I am trying to imply, oh great dragon lord.” Hanzo scowls down at the man who uses his official title in the same instance that a peasant might address a fellow commoner. Hanzo wants to bark a demand to use it right or not at all, and if not at all then the man can deal with the consequences of such disrespect.

Hanzo doesn’t do any of these things however as the man begins to rise on his two feet and collect his sparse things. He places the straw hat on top of an unruly mop of black hair and gathers his makeshift fabric knapsack, hauling it over his shoulder with a laborious huff.

“I think I’ve lounged long enough,” The man begins, looking out over the trees. “The sun was there when I decided to stop and take a small nap,” He says this with a huff of laughter, like he finds such a thing amusing. “It took me far too long to reach the valley, I will admit. All the excitement turned into exhaustion by that point.”

The man looks to Hanzo next, eyes shining expectantly.

“So where does one who’s looking for a place to settle, find a home?”

***

Hanzo flat out refuses him with words that cut deep and true, more bewildered and shocked than any type of angry that might seep in later. The suggestion is even enough to have Hanzo winded, his confusion a thick, tangible thing.

“You do not _stay_ ,” Hanzo begins, final and curt. “You die or you reach the valley edge to cross to the mountain face to other side to— _wherever_ you are going next. No one stays. No one can stay.” The idea is both preposterous and terrifying.

The man stares at Hanzo for a long considering moment before his gaze moves to the trees again, nodding his head slowly, contemplating Hanzo’s words. For a foolish moment, Hanzo believes that this will be enough—that the man will accept what he’s been told, respect it, and move on.

That doesn’t happen.

“I know you’re a territorial species, but…” Hanzo hangs onto that word like the tension shared between a droplet of water and a pointed ended edge of a leaf bowing under that small weight, waiting for the droplet to lose its leverage and fall.

“But,” The man repeats again, more sure. “You see oh great dragon lord, I did not travel all this way to pass over this beauty on a destination that has no true time limit. I will experience life here, for however long I feel, until I have experienced all its pleasures and hardships, and only then will I move on.”

Those green eyes that hold a spark of something unobtainable turn onto Hanzo with their bright conviction and finality as if daring Hanzo to deny him of this. Hanzo stares back, a mix of emotions flood his being that make no sense either together or on their own, and he marvels once again at the sure brazen audacity of this human that fate has decided to annoy him with.

One thing is for sure: Hanzo has never met a man quite like this.

***

They go their separate ways after the dispute.

Hanzo makes veiled threats, only to realize that the rumors surrounding his savagery will not be enough to drive this man away. He calls every bluff and there’s a confidence there in how he holds himself, with how his gait shifts and sways that tells Hanzo he has a way of protecting himself and he’s self-assured in his abilities to do so.

Hanzo huffs offense and leaves the human to do his own bidding.

He’s less likely to die in the valley, but there is always a chance that he might crack his head wide open on a rock.

The idea of sharing the valley is…Hanzo does not like it.

It inspires negative feelings that are more complicated than that of just sharing this space that he has carved out for himself. The concerns are rooted much deeper, like an ache that has never stopped throbbing. The isolation that Hanzo had originally used as a means of punishment, has finally come as a means of comfort. The human with his presences dashes that amenity, makes Hanzo feel uneasy and too big for his skin.

The days pass and Hanzo goes about his business, spends his time entertaining himself by chasing the wild rabbits that sprint almost faster than he can blink. He never happens upon the human and Hanzo is grateful for that, not liking the prospect of having his personal space suddenly encroached upon.

However, after a few weeks, Hanzo’s curiosity gets the better of him.

Hanzo finds his thoughts absentmindedly turning to the human. The man hums often, sometimes singing in a language Hanzo recognizes dimly as belonging to a land faraway from here, and Hanzo begrudgingly finds himself growing accustom to the lulling sound that floats in the air and into his ears.

Just that small admittance has Hanzo in foul mood the moment the sun breaks over the range peak. His tolerance for the birds who insist on remaining by his side is already low, but this morning he brushes them off with little more than a gruff push of his tail when they hop and chirp excitedly towards him. They squawk their offences but Hanzo is already moving, floating through the trees where he knows the human will be.

Hanzo knows he is close when the smell of cooked meat rouses his senses. The man has been productive over the weeks; there is a shelter, a wooden shack finely made with a flourish of moss and leaves lining the roof and a sitting area surrounding a fire pit where a rack of meat is being smoked. He is…impressed by the organization and the resourcefulness that shows through the camp the man has made here. Hanzo is so lost in his own thoughts that when the man announces his own presences, he almost startles.

“And what do I owe such an honor?” The man says, grand and mocking. “The great dragon lord has come to finally pay me a neighborly visit? I would have never thought.” His tone softens to something akin to teasing and Hanzo turns his head to see the man walking up towards his camp with confident strides. He carries in his hands a great pale of water, sets it by the fire, waiting for the meat to finish smoking before he boils it.

He rights himself with a relieved huff. The stress of the weight off his back as he turns to regard Hanzo, dusting off his hands. The man wears lightly wore clothing; a tunic that rests comfortably on his shoulders, tucked into loose pants that tie at his waist with a scrap of dull orange fabric that substitutes as a makeshift belt. The man appears to be at ease here, and while he still doesn’t look like he fits into the scenery surrounding himself, Hanzo has come to know the man as a fixture he can no longer ignore.

There is a pause and both take the moment to regard each other; two intelligent beings analyzing and dissecting for potential ticks and his penetrating stare unnerves Hanzo. The unwavering, unflinching intensity of the man’s odd eyes inspires strange, unpleasant feelings. Hanzo tries to find a way to make him cease without revealing how much the action bothers him.

Turns out, Hanzo doesn’t have to do a thing.

The man promptly cuts his gaze away, fiddling with a piece of jewelry on his wrist. The gesture strikes Hanzo as suspicious; it’s out of character somehow Hanzo vaguely thinks, despite only having had a small handful of interactions with the human.

The bracelet is nothing fancy by the human world’s materialistic standards. It’s beaded, the color of sun bleached wood, nothing special or extraordinary to Hanzo, but there’s something very telling in how the man reverently brushes over the beads with the pads of his fingers like the husk is worth more than the moon and stars.

Hanzo ponders the significance with slightly narrowed eyes.

“How are you Hanzo?”

The question surprises Hanzo for how genuine the inquiry sounds. He mules over a thought, wondering how best to answer such a heavy but vague question.

“I am…” Hanzo beings, trailing off. “I am still wondering the purpose of your presence here, whether you’re an omen meant to bring great misfortune to these peaceful mountains I have inhabited far longer than you’ve been alive.”

The man huffs in amusement, shaking his head back and forth like somehow this tickles him. Those eyes fall onto Hanzo again and this time he is prepared. Only he is not. Hanzo thinks he will never truly be prepared to hold the weight of those strange eyes. There’s just something about them that inspires the outlandish.

“Oh Hanzo,” The human says softly, dare he say…almost even sad?

Hanzo doesn’t know what to make of him and this simple fact is infuriating. He has dealt with all kinds of various creatures in the past—humans proved to be one of the most predictable—and Hanzo thought he knew them, but this man defies to be categorized in a box Hanzo has drawn time and time again.

“Why do you do that?” Hanzo demands, breath coming out on a hiss. He doesn’t know what exactly he refers to—maybe the man’s everything—but either way the man still smiles, small and secretive like he’s the only one who knows what Hanzo speaks of.

The man doesn’t respond, goes back to poking and prodding the smoking meat, arranging the pale of water so it’s sitting on the coals but not extinguishing them.

He invites Hanzo to eat breakfast with him.

Strange indeed.

Hanzo, after a prolonged moment of deliberation sits near him, slithering closer, coming to rest on a patch of soft grass as he coils his body and listens to the sounds of the man tearing into the meat, chewing and swallowing, a lulling rhythm oddly enough.

They don’t speak.

Hanzo almost dozes off several times, but being in the presences of someone foreign keeps his senses aware and focused. The man does not disturb him, content to let Hanzo rest for however long he likes. He doesn’t test the man’s capacity for goodwill; Hanzo quietly leaves when the sun reaches its highest peak.

“You’re always welcome to stop by,” The man says as Hanzo departs. “Don’t be a stranger.”

***

At first, Hanzo visits the man’s camp three days out of the week, the days are random, sporadic, and Hanzo never stays any longer than after lunch. Those first few times they do not talk, the man goes about eating his breakfast, boiling water when he needs, and chopping wood with a tool he’s cleverly made himself.

There’s nothing different or special about this morning, but Hanzo has grown tired of this silence that persists stubbornly between them. He knows the human is waiting for him to break the silence first, allowing Hanzo the power too…? Exactly what, he wonders. It’s a consideration he doesn’t appreciate nor is it one he understands.

“What is your name?” Hanzo asks. “I am tired of associating you with ‘human’ in my head, and ‘you’ aloud.” Hanzo huffs from his place on the grassy spot that has started to turned yellow from Hanzo constantly resting there during his visits. He’ll soon have to move, but the remaining spots are still too close to the man for Hanzo’s own comfortability.

The man turns wide, surprised eyes onto Hanzo, a long strip of meat still hanging suspended from his mouth. The sight is amusing. Hanzo can’t help the huff of laughter that escapes past his mouth. He covers the lapse of judgement with a cough, but from the way the human looks at him, entirely unconvinced, Hanzo knows he’s been found out.

“You think about me then? In your head?” The man says, grin transforming his face from something calm to something devilish in an instant. Hanzo almost recoils from horror, feeling too exposed suddenly, but the man quickly moves on from the teasing, graciously enough.

“My name, eh?” The man murmurs, looking down at his lap thoughtfully.

“I do not have one, not technically.” He begins softly. “The name my father gave me, the one I bore…the name fits ill now I think. I haven’t used it since…well…” The man trails off, looking suddenly uneasy and sheepish. He doesn’t look at Hanzo once and this drawls Hanzo’s curiosity like a moth to a flame. He is curious more than he has any right to be. He can’t think to care.

Hanzo can narrow down a few options as to who this man used to be in a life that’s long gone.

“Mercenary for hire? Assassin?” Hanzo is not surprised by this revelation. From their first meeting and onwards, Hanzo has always recognized the purposeful way in which the man carries himself, every gesture is deliberate, never wasted, and Hanzo knows intrinsically another lost, drifting soul when he sees one. 

The man chuckles, closing his eyes in defeat, but it’s a relieved sort of defeat, one that takes some of the weight off his shoulders, being able to talk about a past he’s obviously not proud of. Hanzo can relate, probably too much.

“Is it that obvious?” The man begins, his voice an odd sort of subdued. His grin is tired, void of what makes it so bright.

“Yes, I worked for a very powerful family for a time. I…” He hesitates, a war dueling behind his eyes. “I killed for the lord of that house for a very long time. I was… _troubled_ —betrayed and bitter, but most of all—hurt.”

Hanzo inwardly cringes, feeling the man’s retelling of this part of his past cut deeper than what he probably intends. Hanzo knows the act of betrayal all too well. He hasn’t thought of his brother in years, tries not to for his sanity of mind, but a memory stabs into Hanzo like the dull edge of a knife, making him shift his body uncomfortably and wince.

The man is silent, to a point where Hanzo starts to believe the conversation is over. He is almost too hopeful for it. The matter of discussion is unintentionally opening old wounds Hanzo burned closed long ago, and there is no need to reopen them for masochism’s sake.

“The more I ponder about my time there, the more I believe that the job I did was to sate my own overwhelming bloodlust than anything else. I didn’t know how else to save myself, back then.”

It’s a confession that’s not meant for Hanzo’s ears, spoken on a fragile, quiet breath much suited for a church confessional, but it leaves Hanzo feeling rattled like the trees whenever a strong gust of wind blows in.

Hanzo does not speak, does nothing except look in the far distance thinking about his own mistakes that have left him here. Bird’s song graciously fills in the silence for them, a calming balm over the hurt.

“Youta,” The man says after several moments, quiet and sure.

Hanzo lifts his eyes, head tilting in question until he remembers.

“Call me Youta.”

Hanzo nods once, then looks towards the sun.

***

Hanzo still has trouble associating the name with the man.

He hasn’t been back to see Youta since that day two weeks ago.

Unknown to the human, the visit left Hanzo feeling raw in a way he hasn’t in a very long time. There’s something about associating with him—maybe with another intelligent being perhaps—that has Hanzo regretfully thoughtful; he’s caught himself thinking of his long dead brother more times than he can bare, and with that the guilt rises and so does the anger that follows in association.

The only one Hanzo can think to blame is Youta.

***

 _I should have expected this_ , is all Hanzo can think.

He’s just come back from chasing the wild rabbits and tawny foxes in the forest to find Youta perched contently on a rock outside the cave of his home. At his feet those traitorous birds hop and dance, chirping excitedly at their new visitor. Youta laughs, echoing back similar sounds that only make the birds positively shriek with pure delight.

Hanzo’s eyes narrow and his mouth pinches with displeasure. It feels like he’s been encroached upon, like he’s been ambushed with a truth he does not want to face.

Even when Hanzo makes his presence fully known, the birds who have refused to leave him alone since last winter ignore him completely in favor for Youta’s attention. Hanzo huffs, offended; no matter how petty the action is, it still feels like a betrayal.

Hanzo doesn’t know where, but somewhere over the course of time he started considering those birds as his own. His responsibility, his wards, and he’s protective of them. Youta is far too close and they are far too trusting.

Maybe he’ll finally eat them after all…

“Hello stranger,” Youta greets. His tone is friendly and teasing, but underneath it there’s something foreign that lurks. Hanzo’s brow rises in question. He has a distinct impression that Youta is upset at his disappearing act and came to confront him about it.

While Hanzo is aspirated by this breach in privacy, another emotion, one he hasn’t felt in a very long time stirs. Hanzo knows he is not upset as he should be and the reason behind it is concerning.

Hanzo pins the man with a heavy stare.

“What are you doing here?” Hanzo asks even though he knows the answer. It seems like the easiest thing to say. The least telling.

Youta shrugs, reaching into his pocket and sprinkling little crumbs of food out by his feet that the birds attack almost immediately before the food bits even hit the ground. It’s a parting gift as Youta rises on his feet and brushes his hands against the fabric of his pants, dusting off crumbs. He steps towards Hanzo, away from the face of the cave and closer to the forest clearing.

“Maybe I just wanted to see your smiling face?” Youta jokes, then proceeds to laugh as his own joke crashes and burns, and at how Hanzo’s expression becomes even more severe.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” Youta assures, spreading his hands in a cajoling gesture. “I just wanted to know why you were avoiding me, if I did something, or...” He trails off, expression going cloudy before it clears. “We haven’t had breakfast together in a while, and I miss your brooding silences and far off stares into the distance. My mornings don’t feel as complete without them to be honest.”

Youta smiles sheepishly like he’s just admitted something he keeps close to his chest and Hanzo curses at the odd skip his heart does in response.

This is…not wise, but Hanzo still considers the olive branch he’s been extended, considers how long he’s been alone in these mountains trying his hardest not to reminisce about a long-lost love he’ll never see again, considers how his body aches, and not just in the physical ways.

Hanzo concludes that he doesn’t want to be alone anymore. That he’s been alone long enough.

***

The hours at breakfast lengthen into lunch and Hanzo choses to ignore how the sun slowly descends from its highest point in the sky when he’s in the presence of Youta. Hanzo pretends, rather begrudgingly, to make room for Youta on the new patch of soft grass that he’s made his own when the man comes to sit by him, nudging Hanzo’s body with his own in an insistent manner that refuses to be ignored.

Days transition into weeks, and if Youta begins leaning on Hanzo’s body, feeling indulgently over his scales as he tells Hanzo of his many adventures to different lands, Hanzo does not say anything, nor does he exactly mind. If Hanzo’s heart begins to beat irregularly at the sight of Youta’s smile, or if he starts to crave Youta’s laughter and the way the healing sound slowly begins to stitch his soul back together, Hanzo does not acknowledge it.

Falling in love with a human wouldn’t be the stupidest thing he’s ever done.


End file.
